


You're the Voice

by orphan_account



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Anonymity, Blow Jobs, Dirty Talk, Drunkenness, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Masturbation, Phone Sex, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-02
Updated: 2013-05-06
Packaged: 2017-12-09 23:39:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/779297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur calls a phone sex line.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. We're Not Gonna Sit in Silence

"So, um, how does this work exactly?"

The person on the other end isn't snappish or mocking, probably, Arthur thinks, because she's gotten the question before. "I connect you with someone and you tell them what you want."

"And do you have, er..." Oh God, Arthur is blushing already and he hasn't even properly started yet. "I know most of them are women, but are there...?" Arthur lets the question go unfinished.

Luckily, the operator understands. "We have a number of male actors to suit a variety of needs, of course. Is there anything in particular you'd like?"

 _I'd like to know how I ever thought this might be a good idea_ , Arthur thinks to say, but doesn't. Arthur does know, however, perfectly well how he'd gotten into this situation. The seedling of an idea had been planted in his brain by a passing remark from his friend Gwaine. Unlike Arthur, Gwaine has a calendar—yes, a bloody  _calendar_ —with a different name on practically every day of the week to keep track of when he was fucking who. Arthur—reserved, traditional, stick-up-his-arse Arthur—hasn't had a good shag in almost three years. It was really time he put an end to that.

The only problem is, Arthur isn't just quiet, he's shy. He has trouble making the first move. This was a logical solution, right?

"N-No. Just any bloke will do," Arthur replies.

"Alright. I just need your credit card number and I'll connect you. We charge by the minute."

Arthur gives her his information and waits while she transfers him to his partner. Arthur's mouth is dry and his heart is thumping irregularly in his chest. He swallows hard when he hears a low voice say, "Hello. What can I do for you tonight?"

For a split second Arthur panics and almost hangs up. He hesitates first because that would be just plain rude and second because if he can't even have anonymous phone sex there's no way he can handle an actual date.

"I-I want you to fuck me," Arthur says in one hurried breath.

The man's tone is light and playful, but deep and seductive at the same time. "Oh yeah? And how would you like it?"

"I—God, any way I can get it."

He clicks his tongue, disapproving. "Surely you have a preference. I could lay you down on your back, and fuck you slow, bite your neck while you claw at my back, begging for more. Or you can lay on your stomach and I'll pound you into the mattress, your face so deep in the pillows you can barely breathe. Or maybe you like it standing up? Bent over the sofa with your knuckles white from clutching the cushions."

Arthur moans and palms the bulge in his trousers. He can picture it so perfectly, the filthy things this man describes to him. And he wants it, god he wants it so much. 

His partner doesn't stop. "But maybe you're the type that wants to be in control, yeah? Maybe you'd prefer riding me and fucking yourself at your own pace. You see, I don't know any of these things. That's why you've got to tell me."

Arthur wiggles his arse so that he scoots down the bed. "Laying down," he nearly whispers his voice is so hoarse. "On my back. But don't go slow."

He can hear the smile in the man's voice. "You want it hard and fast, huh? You like it a bit rough?"

Arthur's breath hitches as he dips his hand beneath his pants and touches his cock. "S-Sometimes. Yeah."

"Alright. You got your kit off?"

Arthur wiggles his hips again as he lowers his pants and trousers to his knees, then momentarily lodges the phone between his ear and shoulder so he can pull them off. "Yeah."

"Good. I want your legs wide open. I want to fit perfectly. Do I fit perfectly?"

He imagines the shadow of a man hovering above him, dragging a leaking cock against his own as he looks into wide eyes with a devious twinkle. The sides of the man's thighs brush the insides of his own deliciously smooth.

"Yeah. Yeah, why don't you get inside me already?" Arthur asks, surprising himself.

The man chuckles, throaty and playful. "And ruin the buildup? It won't be nearly as fun. You won't come nearly as hard." Arthur moans again and has to squeeze his cock at that. "I'm going to take my time with you. You sound like you really need it."

"You have no idea," Arthur admits, pulling long and slow on his cock. The skin is dry so he licks his hand before doing it again.

 "Why don't you arch into me, yeah? Wrap your legs around my waist to hold me close. I'm gonna suck on your neck a bit now. You don't mind if I curl my fingers in your hair, do you? You feel so good, I need something to hold onto."

The man's voice raises in pitch just slightly near the end, like he's hard and desperate and  _close_. Arthur's spine curves as he plants his heels in the mattress and suspends his hips in the air, trying to grind upward into the invisible body above him. The back of his head sinks deeper into his pillow and most of his weight is shifted to his shoulder blades.

Arthur fights the urge to beg, hand fisting his cock. "You can do whatever you want to me, just  _don't stop._ "

"Mmmh. Kissing down your front now. Nearing your cock. I—fuck—want you in my mouth."

"Yes."

Arthur hears an obscene smack of lips over the phone and swears he can feel a tongue drag down his length. It's only for a moment though and it has him bending himself nearly in half for more. He licks his palm again, messy and wet, and takes himself in hand once more.

There's a moan coming from the other end, long and wrecked and ending on a high-pitched sigh. Arthur wonders if the man whose voice is driving him wild is enjoying this as much as him. Is he touching himself too or is he just sitting in his living room, acting?

It becomes clear that the man is actively participating when he starts panting. "Are you ready? I've got my fingers all slick and ready to open you up and my tongue wants to lick you all over."

 "Yeah. Oh God, yeah." Arthur finally lowers his hips and butterflies his legs wider, inviting the imaginary man inside. If he holds the phone between his ear and shoulder and closes his eyes and uses his fingers to nudge just a bit...

"Fuck," the man gasps, and Arthur's fingers are  _his_ fingers working their way deeper inside. "You're so tight. Look at how your arse clenches around me. Just sucking me in like it can't get enough."

The faster he goes the more the stretch stings, because Arthur didn't have the foresight to keep lube handy, he was so nervous about calling in the first place. He slowly removes his hand from between his legs, one hand still firmly wrapped around his cock, and leans over to retrieve the bottle from the nightstand. The man on the phone is making obscene noises again, slurping and smacking sounds that clearly resemble someone licking an arse. Arthur scrambles to wet his fingers and get them back inside and when he does his body shudders.

After a few breathy moments, the voice says, low and hoarse, "I'm going to fuck you now."

It's deep and dripping with seduction and right in Arthur's ear and it takes a good amount of concentration for Arthur not to come right then. He does let out a rather undignified whine though as his fingers brush his prostate.

"Nnnh, fuck you so hard you'll see stars," the man breathes, and Arthur can hear the tempo of skin slapping skin increase. "You want hard and fast, I'll give you hard and fast. Raise your legs up a bit." 

Arthur does, shifting some of his weight back on his shoulders again. The pleasure heightens instantly as the angle is better. He thinks he must look ridiculous bouncing on the bed with his arse in the air and his legs to his chest but he finds he doesn't care, it feels so good. The heavy breathing and unashamed moaning in his ear makes it even better.

"Oh, oh yeah, that's it. Just—oh God, fuck. So perfect, so fucking perfect. Oh,  _oh_." The voice is loud, wailing almost, and Arthur can relate. He fists his cock faster, thrusts his fingers deeper, and bites his lip to keep from screaming himself. "T-T-Tell me you're close, God, please, I can't last much longer, fuckfuck _fuck—_ " _  
_

"I—I—"

"Shut up. Just shut up and let me kiss you."

Arthur unconsciously licks his lips and it's that last sensation that finally pushes him over the cliffs of release. He comes hard, just as the man promised, and can't hold back the moan that escapes from deep in his throat.

The voice on the other end must have climaxed as well because when Arthur comes back to himself he hears shaky, uneven breathing that matches his own. 

"That was amazing," the voice sighs in satisfaction. A nagging feeling tugs at Arthur when he thinks that's probably what this man says to all his clients. "And it only took...sixteen minutes."

Arthur swallows hard before asking, "I-Is that a lot? For you I mean. I know to you I'm probably just another perv calling, but this...I'm kind of shy, you see, and this meant a lot to me. And I'm rather well off so—" Laughter cuts him off and his heart jumps in his throat when he thinks he's made a fool of himself. The fact that he's anonymous only slightly soothes him. 

"Alright, take it easy, yeah?" The man's voice has changed. It's not as low and there's a slight Welsh accent that lets Arthur know the man has stopped acting. It's a strange comfort. "Sixteen minutes—well, seventeen now—is fine. I've got a real job, it's not like I do this for a living. Just so I can afford luxuries like ice cream and iPhone apps."

"Oh."

The man chuckles again. "And believe me, I've dealt with pervs and you're nothing like them. You haven't asked me to pretend to be a servant."

"Someone actually did that?" That gets a small laugh out of Arthur.

"You wouldn't believe the things I've been asked. What people can't get in real life they ask for over the phone," the man explains. "But enough about that. I'm not going to rip you off by charging you for just talking. Thanks for calling. I had fun." 

The line goes dead before Arthur can say another word and he stares at the phone a minute then puts it down to clean himself up.

*

If Arthur had said he didn't know why he called the second time, he'd be lying. The truth is, there was something about that voice that sends Arthur scrambling for the phone when he gets home from work nearly a week later. Like a drug, Arthur needs it, has to hear it moaning in his ear again or he'll start banging his head against the wall.

"Can I, er, have the same man I had last time?" Arthur asks, voice shaky with anticipation.

"All our clients are anonymous, sir, so I've no idea who you are. If you have his assigned number I can connect you with him that way," the operator responds.

Arthur's stomach sinks. "I didn't get his number. But I think, uh...he might have been Welsh?" It's all Arthur knows about the man and he hopes it's enough.

"Oh, that's seventeen. I just need your credit card number and I'll transfer you to him right away."

Arthur's heart does somersaults and he fumbles over his card number so he has to give it a couple times.  _Seventeen_ , he commits to memory,  _seventeen, seventeen._

"Hello," the man answers, dragging out the word seductively.

"H-Hi."

"Oh, it's you. I was wondering if I'd ever hear from you again, Mr Shy-But-Well-Off."

"How'd you know it was me?"

"I had a feeling. And the stuttering might have tipped you off."

"Oh."

The man chuckles. "Yes, 'oh.' Did you have something in mind for tonight?"

Arthur momentarily panics. He'd been so eager to hear this voice again that he hadn't given a thought to what he wanted exactly.

"I just wanted to listen to you," Arthur says truthfully.

"What did you want to hear me do? I could touch myself." Arthur's cock jumps in his trousers and he presses a hand against it when he leans back on the sofa. His small intake of breath is taken as a yes. "Okay then," Number Seventeen continues, "let me get my trousers off. You've caught me in the middle of dinner, you see."

Arthur feels a slight pang of regret that he called with no thought to how he'd affect this man's life but it's gone the second he hears the sound of a zip. He undoes his own trousers and slides them down to his ankles. His cock is red and swollen in the v of his open legs and the leather sofa is cold on the back of his thighs.

The man sighs just as Arthur wraps his fingers around himself, and he's thrilled at how in sync they are. He tugs on his cock in long, slow strokes, listening to the admittedly exaggerated moans. 

There's something different about the voice this time, something strained and edgy. The man hums low and whispers filthy things like,"Now I'm just pressing my thumb over the head a little and  _fuck,_ that feels good, oh yes," but it doesn't seem as real as it did last time. Regardless, it brings Arthur off in no time and he waits with a thumping heart for Seventeen to come as well. When he finally does, the moan is high-pitched and theatrical. 

"You still there, love?" The man asks after a few deep breaths. Arthur can make out footsteps and what sounds like someone moving about a kitchen: opening cupboards, pulling out a glass, pouring a drink. "Hello?" He tilts the end of the word up like a short song.

"Yeah, I'm-I'm here," Arthur says. "Just thinking."

"Ah, well," he laughs, "Can't have that now, can we? That means I didn't satisfy you, and I do so want to satisfy you. Maybe something with a little more...participation will help, like last time. I could—"

"Actually, I was hoping we could just talk?" Arthur interrupts.

"Are you sure? I know last time I ended the call but if that's really what you want..." Arthur can hear the verbal shrug. "I'm not complaining about any extra money."

"Yes please. There's just something about your voice that...it's soothing," Arthur admits. "I really did just want to listen to you. And you don't have to hide your accent. I actually quite like it."

There's a few seconds of silence on the line and Arthur checks his phone to make sure Seventeen hasn't disconnected. Then: "You like my stupid Welsh accent?" in thick Welsh sing-songy tones.

Arthur lets out a breathy chuckle. "Yeah. It's a nice break from the usual London noise I hear. It's..."

"Makes me sound like an uneducated inbred farmboy? Heard that one before."

"No! No. It's..." Arthur rubs the back of his neck and forces himself to finish the sentence by thinking of how he's still anonymous, thank God. "It's cute."

"Oh. Well, in that case. I guess. Okay then."

"Yeah..."

"So, um. What did you want me to talk about?"

"Anything. You said you had a real job. Tell me about that."

The man laughs humourlessly. "Ha, well. It's not so much a job as it is slavery. I'm in London too and I'm a television runner so I do a shit tonne of work for just about no money. The people I have to deal with are always bossy and rude and bitchy and cranky and supercilious and just so...so infuriating. On top of everything else they really do think my accent makes me sound stupid and never pass up an opportunity on letting me know whenever it slips."

"You haven't lived in London long then?" Arthur asks.

"No. Just a few years. Almost four. I came because I figured there'd be more chances to direct than in Cardiff. That's what I really want to do, be a director. I dunno if you could tell but I really can't act to save my life. It's a wonder so many people request me." There's a pause. "Shit. I probably shouldn't have told you that."

"It's alright. I wouldn't say it to your other clients though."

"No, that would be bad."

And because it's been bothering Arthur since the beginning: "Did I really interrupt your dinner?"

"Hm? Oh. Yeah. But don't worry about it. It wasn't all that great anyways. Leftover pizza. Not even fully cooked."

"Is it hard? Being a...a..."

"A phone actor?" Seventeen finishes, laughing. "Sometimes. My hours are six to ten, so I try to build my schedule around that. It's always a pain if I'm eating or on the toilet or watching telly when the phone rings and I have to put everything down. And then I have to get into my whole mindset to make myself into whatever the client wants me to be...but it's given me a new appreciation for actors. And I guess if I ever have to direct sex scenes I'll have some experience on getting the noises just right."

They both laugh at that and then Arthur asks, "Do you like it?"

"It's alright. I don't hate it. It's just tough sometimes. Like today, I had a really shit day at work. I just wanted to come home, eat, and lay in the bathtub, then fall asleep. But I've got to keep on going, you know? Most days it's not so bad though."

Arthur feels bad for the guy. He knows not everyone can have a secure job like him or make as much money as he does, but he never has to really confront poverty on a daily basis. And no, this man never said he was poor, but Arthur has a feeling the flat he lives in isn't nearly as nice as his own, and he probably only owns a couple pairs of worn down shoes. Arthur wants to give this stranger all the help he can, for some inexplicable reason, and he wants to give the guy a break. It's not as if Arthur doesn't have the funds for it.

But it's only the second time he's spoken with the man and nobody is  _that_ nice these days. Wouldn't it be a little creepy?

Arthur decides to risk it. There's something about this man—his voice—that makes him want to take chances in ways he never thought he would. "I could...stay on the line. While you go relax. If you'd like. That way you don't have to take any more calls and you'll still get paid for it. I don't mind."

"Are you...are you joking? That's...who  _does_ that? Seriously?"

"If you'd rather not—"

"No, no, that'd be...wow, that'd be great! But are you sure? I feel terrible already."

"I'm sure. You sound really stressed and honestly, your performance suffered because of it. I'm doing those other clients a favour."

Seventeen laughs heartily. "You know, you're pretty funny once you get past the whole shyness thing."

"Er, yeah. I'm not  _that_ shy, it's just...meeting new people and all. Kind of makes it hard to date."

"You're a half-decent bloke. Any guy would be lucky to have you. And you don't sound unattractive either."

"Um...thanks?"

He laughs again. "Wow. I can't believe this. Thanks so much!"

With that, he puts down the phone and Arthur hears footsteps leading away. Arthur gets up and puts the phone on speaker so he can move about his own flat. He eats, he watches telly, he reads, he goes over what he has to do tomorrow when he goes into the office, and all the while he listens to the background noises coming from the phone. In the distance on the other end, he hears water running, a tub filling with water. A little later he hears humming and shuffling about, probably Seventeen tidying up his living room or something. He hears television voices and recognises they're watching the same programme and they laugh at nearly all the same things. When ten o'clock rolls around Arthur hangs up without a word, because he can just barely make out faint snoring and lets the man sleep peacefully until morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The only things I know about phone sex lines is what I learned from watching Girl 6 when I was 14. So this is pretty much all guesswork!


	2. We're Not Gonna Live With Fear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some unexpected things happen.

"I've been a bad boy," Number Seventeen says on a moan. "I should be punished."

Arthur grips the base of his cock. "H-How should I punish you?"

"I think you should bend me over and spank me." A hollow sound comes through the phone as Seventeen brings his teeth together in a seductive bite at the air.

"Oh God."

"You want to? I'm all yours, you know. My arse is right here, ready and waiting." There's a smacking sound as Seventeen slaps his arse—or his thigh, or some other part of his body. Arthur can never be sure if the man is doing or acting unless he's had a bad day at work. 

"What have you done?" Arthur ventures.

"While you were at work today...and I missed you  _so_ much..."

"Yeah?"

"I took your favourite shirt...and I pressed my face in the fabric. It smelled just like you, like you were  _right there_. I tied the sleeves around my waist and thought of you on your knees sucking me off the way you do..."

Arthur squeezes his cock again at the image. Seventeen's voice is filthy, absolutely dripping with suggestion and teasing whines. It's all Arthur can do not to moan and come right then.

"And I...I came all over it," Seventeen continues. "I know it's expensive and it'll never wash out all the way, but—but I wanted you so  _bad_  and I couldn't take it. So you see, I've been terribly naughty. I need you to punish me."

Seventeen lowers his voice to nearly a whisper on the last sentence and Arthur whimpers, he  _whimpers_ , with desperation.

"Wow," Arthur breathes, "you  _can_  be be kinky."

"I told you. People ask me to do all kinds of things. Now, are you going to spank me or not?"

"I—I don't—"

"I'll just have to do it myself then."

Immediately there's another slapping noise and a sharp exhale of breath into the microphone. It happens again and again, each time punctuated with a gasp or a little "Oh!"

Arthur gives in. He strips his cock in time to Seventeen's breathing and self-spanking and pretty soon he's coming hard, hot white pleasure seeping through his fingers.

"Mmm," Seventeen moans, "my arse is so red. Gonna be sore tomorrow. Did I do a good job? Did I punish myself properly?"

"Fuck, yes," Arthur replies in a quiet, shaky voice. "You're...really good at this."

The responding laugh is low and makes Arthur's stomach flip with how close it is in his ear. "Practise makes perfect. And I've had a  _lot_  of practise."

Arthur doesn't know what to say to that so he just continues to breathe until it occurs to him that he should clean himself up before his come dries uncomfortably. The leather makes a soft sound as he stands and it must register through the phone because now the man says, "Will that be all for tonight?"

It's more than enough to keep Arthur going another week—they've set Thursday night as their time, and this is the seventh time Arthur has called—so Arthur is alright with replying, "Yeah. Yeah, thank you."

"Until next week then." And he hangs up.

*

It's Friday. It's finally Friday, and there's only one more day to get through until the weekend. Arthur is running a bit behind but he makes it to the Tube minutes before the next train arrives. He looks around at the people waiting, the same dreary crowd that populates the Underground every weekday. He wonders if they can sense a change in him. Is his perverseness visible through his skin, can they hear Seventeen's moans echoing in his head? 

Does anyone else here frequent sex hotlines in their spare time? What dirty secrets do these seemingly ordinary people have?

The train comes barreling in before Arthur can get a good surreptitious look around. He shuffles on and the doors are just about to close when a man shouts, "No!"

Arthur sticks his foot in the doorway to stop them from closing. Through the space he can see a tall, lanky, raven-haired man with a sloppily adorned tie running towards him. An automated voice says, "Please stand clear of the door," as the man reaches it.

He is panting and red-faced from exertion when he says, "Thanks. I really could not be late to work again."

Arthur's heart stops.  _You're the voice_ , he thinks. He's heard this voice before, would know these rough exhales of breath anywhere. Arthur is, without a shred of doubt, certain that the man he is staring at is Number Seventeen.

But he can never be too sure. Seventeen—if it is him, and he's positive it is—is covering up his Welsh accent. As Arthur removes his foot from the door and returns his hand to the vertical pole, he asks, "Wh-where do you work?"

The man—who's got amazingly blue eyes now that Arthur allows himself to look—places his hand a few centimetres above Arthur's and the train lurches forward. "I'm a TV runner. And I just know I'm going to get an earful for looking the way I do." He raises his free hand to try and make his hair lay flat, but it pops right back up. His shirt is horribly wrinkled and untucked on one side, making him look completely disheveled. "I barely had time to brush my teeth."

"Late night?" Arthur asks, more certain than ever that this is the man who takes up nearly his every waking thought.

He's still flushed from running, but he's got his breathing under control. It's because of this that Arthur can't tell if the man is blushing or not, though he does break eye contact briefly.

"Sort of. I had to stay up rather late unexpectedly."

Arthur extends his hand. "I'm A-Arthur."

"Merlin." He shakes Arthur's hand firmly. "Thanks again for holding the door, Arthur."

"Of course. Anyone would have done the same."

Merlin gives him a wry smile and passes a quick glance over the other faces near them. "I'm not too sure about that."

Arthur's still got Merlin's hand in his own and he's a bit reluctant to let go. On a whim, he strokes Merlin's knuckles with his thumb and promptly drops his hand when Merlin's eyes flicker down in surprise.

"Sorry," Arthur mutters, blushing.

Merlin colours prettily as well. "S'okay. More than okay."

The automated voice comes on again and announces they're approaching a stop. Merlin raises his eyes to the marquee.

"That you?" Arthur asks.

"Yeah," Merlin says, sounding almost sad.

As the train slows into the next stop, Arthur leans forward and whispers boldly in Merlin's ear, "Can I tell you something, Merlin?"

Merlin shudders and Arthur doesn't think it's because the train halts abruptly. He knows full well what it's like to have someone speak lowly in your ear. "What's that?"

"I like your Welsh accent better."

The doors slide open and at first Merlin doesn't move, just stares slack-jawed at Arthur as his brain tries to process what he just heard. Arthur can hardly believe he had the nerve to say it himself. He just outed himself as the man that likes to listen to Merlin moan and whine over the phone and Merlin—poor, startled, blushing Merlin—has just discovered he's met one of his clients in real life. He's struck dumb but luckily Arthur has the coherency to nudge Merlin towards the exit to beat the onslaught of people rushing on. Merlin gathers his wits and scrambles off just as the doors close shut and Arthur stares at him—still open-mouthed and shocked—as the train pulls away.

*

That night, Arthur struggles not to call. He tries to distract himself with any and everything, but Merlin's face keeps appearing in his head. He keeps feeling Merlin's knuckles under his thumb and wondering what it'd be like to touch him all over.

But if there's one thing Arthur is known for, it's his strictness for sticking to schedules. He doesn't call Merlin because it's Friday, not Thursday, and Thursday is phone sex day. If he let himself call today, what's to stop him from calling the next day, and the next? And while he isn't poor, he doesn't have endless amounts of money to spend on a sex line.

Instead of getting better, it gets worse as the days pass. He doesn't see Merlin on the Tube again and he honestly doesn't know what he'd say if he did. He was reckless that day, more bold than he'd been in a long time, and while he's happy he somehow got the courage to say something, he doesn't quite know how to handle it now that the momentary bravery has passsed.

But Thursday does eventually come round again and that whole day he is jittery. Since calling for the first time, he's been noticeably brighter and more content. His co-workers have all remarked on it. But that long week of putting off calling has worked his nerves. It's a relief when he finds himself dialling the number again and giving his credit card information like it's second nature.

"Hello," he hears Merlin's voice, low and seductive.

"Hey. It's me."

"Oh...Arthur."

"Merlin. Am I your first call tonight?"

"No, second," Merlin replies, London accent gone and replaced with his native south Welsh. "Are you sure you still wanna do this? I know it's a bit awkward since it's not really anonymous anymore."

As much as Arthur agrees, he can't imagine a life without hearing this voice, and now that he thinks about it, that's actually quite sad. "I'm sure."

"Great. You're my best client, you know."

There's silence for a few tense seconds while they each think of how to procede. Eventually Merlin says, "I was right, before. You're not unattractive. Bloody gorgeous actually."

Arthur rubs the back of his neck as he blushes. "Er, thanks. I get that a lot but I sort of thought people were just being nice."

"People aren't  _nice_ , Arthur. Only you. The rest of the world sucks."

"Oh."

"Like my boss. Complete twat. Nearly fired me that day just because my tie wasn't on properly and my hair a right mess. You on the other hand, looked like some sort Greek god."

"I...I did?" Arthur frowns but is inwardly thrilled.

"Totally. What, have you got low self-esteem as well as painful shyness?"

"I-I'm not  _that_ shy! Just at first. I kept eye contact with you, didn't I? I used to have trouble with that."

Merlin laughs. "Alright, calm down then. But do you? Because a bloke like you really has no business being so beautiful and having low self-esteem."

"No. I know I have a large nose and crooked teeth but I don't feel bad about myself or anything. It's just something to live with. Like you probably get a lot of shit about your ears."

Merlin groans. "Ugh, my  _ears_. You had to go and bring up my stupid ears."

Arthur chuckles. "And you could probably cut someone with those cheekbones," he adds.

"Well I'd rather cut someone with cheekbones than a stupidly chiseled square jaw."

"My jaw isn't even that square!"

"Square enough!"

"Unbelievable. First you're praising me, then you're mocking me. Make up your mind, will you?"

"You started it, with my ears."

"I  _like_  your ears."

"I like your nose. And your jaw, even if it is too perfect to be real."

"Now it's perfect, eh?"

"It was always perfect." There's a pause, then shaky laughter. "Wow, I can't believe we just—can we just end this and agree that we both like the way the other looks?"

"Deal."

Another pause, and then: "How did you know it was me, by the way?"

Arthur blushes deep red again. "I sort of...have this fixation on your voice. I recognised you by the way you sounded when you were out of breath."

"You...are obsessed with my voice? My stupid retarded, Welsh voice?" Merlin says, incredulous.

"It's not stupid," Arthur replies before he can stop himself. "And yeah, a bit."

"Hmm. Have you ever...have you ever had a wank while thinking about it, when you weren't on the phone?" Merlin goes an octave deeper and slows his speech so it's more suggestive. Arthur's body immediately reacts. "Ever come while imagining my voice in your ear?"

"Y-Yes," Arthur admits, feeling his trousers growing more restrictive.

Merlin returns to his normal tone. "Well. That's about the hottest thing anyone's ever told me. And I've heard some kinky shit."

"What about you?" Arthur dares to question. "Do you ever really get off while you're on the phone or is it all an act? Am I even allowed to ask that?"

"You're already so different from my other clients," Merlin responds, chuckling. "I don't see why you can't ask whatever you want. But really, it depends. Sometimes I do, but most of the time, no. If I had to do it for every single client, I'd be worn out, you know?"

"Oh, well, yeah, I guess I sort of knew that. I mean, obviously. But have you...every time, with me, have you...?"

"Oh. Are you sure you wanna hear the answer to that?"

"I think just asking me that sort of tells me anyway."

"Sorry, mate."

"It's okay. I know I'm not always your first call and you can't expect me to be your last. It makes sense to pace yourself."

"If I could, you know...I would. It's not that I don't want to, I just can't, sometimes. Like, the second time you called, I didn't really...that was all acting."

"But I heard your zip..."

"Doesn't mean I actually touched myself. All part of the illusion. You'd be surprised how many things I have just lying around that can make sexual noises. This job certainly breeds creativity."

"Oh." Arthur colours again, not believing he's about to ask this question or if he even wants to know the answer. "Last time, when you...did you really, er, spank yourself?"

Merlin outright bursts with laughter then, loud and uncontrollable, for a few seconds. "Yeah," he says finally. "Yeah, I did. Though my arse wasn't really sore the next day, just in case you were wondering about that as well. It hurt my hand more than my arse, if you can believe it."

"Um."

"Why so many questions? Thinking about going into the phone acting business yourself?"

"What? No! I could never—no way."

"It's not that hard, really. I've listened to you often enough to know that you're vocal, just quiet about it. Instead of holding back and breathing, just give your throat that extra little nudge and turn it into a moan. That's really all you've got to do, is moan. A little whining, some 'oh fuck yeahs' thrown it, and you're good."

"Um."

"Wanna have a try?"

"Wh-what?"

"Come on. Now that you've brought it up, I'm eager to hear what you sound like."

"I never brought it up!" Arthur argues.

"Yeah, well. I still wanna hear you scream."

"Oh God."

"There you go!"

"N-No. I won't—I can't—"

"Not even if I talk to you like this?" Merlin says, lowering his voice and giving it that smooth gloss that he's figured Arthur can't resist. And dammit if it doesn't send a jolt of arousal up Arthur's spine. "I'll touch myself, just for you," Merlin continues. "Nice...and slow."

"M-Merlin—"

"Come  _on_. Might as well get your money's worth. Don't you wanna have some  _fun_? Can't be all suit and tie all the time, you know. Got to let loose every once in a while."

"Mmf," Arthur whimpers. Damn Merlin and his husky voice for having this effect on him.

"That's it, love, just like that." Arthur clearly hears a zipper over the line and the rustling of clothing. "Just—ahhhh—let it all out."

" _Mer_ lin."

"Fuck, I-I love it when you say my name. I should have told you ages ago. No one's said my name like that in a long time."

"Merlin, are you really...?"

"Yes, I  _am_  really. The truth is I've been thinking of your stupid face and waiting for this call ever since last Friday when I found out who you were."

"But I thought—I never saw you again after that."

"I was embarrassed. I thought you were too," Merlin says, breath coming quicker.

"Wait...when you 'found out who I was?' You saw me before?"

" _Yes_." Arthur can't tell if that's his answer or in response to his hand stroking his cock or not. "I've always taken the same train to work and seen you every day. But you shy people are always wrapped in your little thoughts and completely oblivious. After that day though...I started waking up earlier to avoid you."

"You—you—"

"Yes, you idiot. You may be obsessed with my voice, but I've been obsessed with you for months. I've fantasised about you fucking me at least a thousand different ways already—"

" _Fuck,_ Merlin—"

"And then to find out that you're my best client...That was...too much. I didn't want to jump you on the Tube of all places, especially with our situation being what it is." And now Merlin's breath is really heavy and he's panting like mad.

"I wouldn't have objected."

"Really?"

"Really."

"Then prove it to me. Moan for me and prove it to me."

 "M-Merlin. You have no idea what you do to me," Arthur says quietly. The mic picks it up.

"So why don't you tell me?"

Arthur lets himself go. He touches his clothed cock and moans.

"Think about you all the time," Arthur admits. "About that first time I called and you fucked me. About your mouth on my cock and your fingers in my hair. And after I saw you I couldn't get your eyes or your smile out of my mind. I wanted to pull you to me by that stupid tie and kiss your perfect lips."

"Fuck, Arthur, why didn't you?" Merlin sounds desperate.

"I'm 'painfully shy,' remember?"

"Bloody fucking wanker is what you are."

"I-I do enjoy having a good wank." Arthur begins taking off his trousers so he can get at himself properly. His blood is pumping furiously and he can hear his heartbeat in his ears from excitement. He's never been this up front with any of his past lovers before, and he has a feeling that if it was anyone else he wouldn't be nearly as courageous.

Arthur gives his cock a good pull, twisting slightly when he reaches the head, and moans again at the pleasure. Merlin whines at almost the same time, ending on a wrecked sigh. He started first and Arthur can tell by the way he's breathing that he's not going to last much longer.

"Ah, ah, Arthur," Merlin gasps as he comes.

Arthur thinks of Merlin's lips wrapped around his dick, thinks of Merlin's blue eyes staring up at him, framed by thick dark lashes. He hears Merlin encouraging him—"Come on, Arthur, come all over me, let me hear you"—and soon he's climaxing too. He allows himself to moan again and it feels good to have the sound escape, to be free with his vocalisations.

"That's it, love, let it out."

Arthur breathes shakily through the aftershocks. He always feels at peace when he listens to Seventeen—to Merlin. It's as though all is right with the world, all his problems fade away to insignificance, as long as Merlin's voice is in his ear.

They're quiet for a while, content to just listen to each other breathing. At some point they get up to clean themselves and running water is heard in the background.

Eventually, Merlin says, "I don't work on weekends. So, um. If you wanted to, I dunno, have dinner or something?"

Arthur is already grinning broadly. "Like a date?"

"Well. Yeah."

"I'd love to. Where and when?"

"There's a place by the Tube station, just a few streets away...has really good steak."

"I know it."

"Great. Say, uh, Saturday at six-ish?"

Arthur can't keep the smile out of his voice when he replies, "I'll see you then."

"Brilliant. Bye Arthur."

"Bye Merlin."

 _Yes!_ Arthur inwardly cheers as he hangs up. He can't wait for Saturday and he doesn't know how he'll ever be able to sit still through work tomorrow.


	3. Make the Noise and Make It Clear

Arthur is _not_ a girl.

However, standing in front of his open wardrobe, fretting over what he’s going to wear, he certainly feels like one. What do you wear on a date with someone you’ve had kinky phone sex with for two months but have only seen on the Tube once?

The restaurant Merlin chose isn’t too formal, but Arthur certainly can’t show up in a regular shirt and jeans. It’s early June and warm but windy, and though the weather didn’t call for rain, one really can’t be too sure in England. Looking out the window at the thin, wispy clouds, Arthur thinks he’ll forego a light jacket and wear something with sleeves he can roll up should he get a bit hot.

He eyes his wardrobe again, frowning. There are about four different knit shirts he can wear, each a different colour. Arthur groans and reluctantly pulls out his mobile to dial his sister’s number.

“Arthur?” Morgana answers, immediately suspicious. “Everything alright?”

“Are you busy?”

“No...”

“I need your help. With, um. Colours.”

Morgana laughs incredulously. “I’m sorry did you just say ‘colours?’”

“Alright, look. I have a date, okay? I don’t know what to wear. And I want to make a good first impression. Or rather, second impression. I don’t even know anymore. Just...help?” Arthur asks, exasperated and embarrassed. Asking Morgana for anything could always end one of two ways: with insufferable mocking or patronising fondness.

It seems this time it’s the latter. “Oh my goodness, _Ar_ thur. How _cute_!”

Arthur groans. “Morgana, please. Can you come over and try not to be a giant girl about this?”

“Isn’t that why you called me? You obviously need a female’s advice. I can respect that.” Arthur opens his mouth to retort but Morgana cuts him short. “Don’t worry. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

Arthur has already picked out trousers—it’s really impossible to go wrong with black slacks—which he’s wearing when he answers the door for Morgana. She bustles in without a single glance at him and goes straight to his room where the shirts are laid out on the bed.

“At least you know not to dress in layers,” she says, picking up the blue one.

“Er, why’s that?”

She quirks an eyebrow at him. “Easier to take off.” Arthur gapes but she ignores him in favour of casting away the blue shirt and picking up the red one. “This one’s nice,” she continues. “I like that it has a collar...Three-quarter length sleeves, good, good...Very nice.”

“I should go with that one then?”

Abruptly, Morgana drops the red shirt. “Don’t be ridiculous. Here, wear this grey one.” She shoves the grey article into Arthur’s hands decisively. Arthur steps back, feeling like he’s missed something.

“You haven’t even looked at it yet. You only saw the red and blue.”

Morgana taps her foot and crosses her arms. “I don’t need to. I’ve seen you wear it before. You look good in it and he’ll love it. Trust me.”

Arthur fingers the soft cloth in contemplation. It’s a dark grey henley with long sleeves that cover half of his hand when extended fully. It has five buttons; Arthur usually leaves the top two undone.

“You wanted my advice, Arthur,” Morgana nudges him. “Put on the shirt.”

Arthur’s mouth tilts downward a bit but he complies. He sticks in arms in the sleeves and pulls it over his head, yanking the rest of it down over his waist. The fabric is light and breatheable, loose but close-fitting, and it clings to his chest without making it seem like he’s putting his pectorals on display too obscenely.

Arthur holds out his arms in an expression of “How do I look?” and Morgana claps excitedly. “Perfect. Just like I knew it would be.” Arthur tries and fails not to roll his eyes as Morgana walks over to him. “Just one more thing.”

Arthur watches, puzzled, as she lifts her hands to his neck. “What are you—”

“There,” she says, undoing a button. “It never hurts to show a little more skin.” And she fucking _winks_.

Arthur groans. “I should never have called you.”

Morgana looks mock-hurt. “After all I’ve done for you! Don’t worry. You’ll be thanking me soon enough.”

Arthur looks over her shoulder at the clock. He has nearly fifteen minutes to get there. It’s not a long walk, but he always likes to arrive a couple minutes early.

Morgana glances over her shoulder to see what her brother is looking at and makes a humming noise. “What time?”

Arthur’s face scrunches as he says, “Six-ish.”

“Ah.”

“I know.”

It’s mutually understood that Arthur hates any indefinite information because he likes being certain. He likes having a schedule and secure plans. He hates feeling caught off-guard because then things have a tendency to go wrong. And the last thing Arthur wants is for this night to go wrong.

“Well.” Morgana places a heavy hand on Arthur’s left shoulder affectionately. “Good luck. If he ends up being a chav, you’re welcome to come over. I’ve got ice cream.”

“He’s not a chav, and I don’t—” Arthur almost snaps back at her that he’s not a _girl_ and he doesn’t need her sympathy, but then he realises this is the only way she knows how to be nice and accepts it with a single nod.

They walk out together and just before turning to go their separate ways, Morgana touches Arthur’s arm and says, “I’m serious, Arthur. I don’t want to see you hurt. Not again.”

Arthur swallows thickly. He didn’t want to have to go through another one of his sister’s touchy-feely moments, but of course, she had to bring up the past.

“Thanks, Morgana,” Arthur replies, “but Merlin’s different. I know he is.”

She smiles, genuinely pleased for her brother. “Brilliant.”

*

_Breathe, Arthur_ , Arthur tells himself upon seeing Merlin walk in. But it's easier said than done because...because damn, Merlin looks amazing. Literally breathtaking. He's wearing dark grey jeans and a black button-down shirt, the sleeves rolled up and the top few buttons unclasped. His hair is carefully styled to achieve the perfect balance between formal and just-rolled-out-of-bed and jesusfuckingchrist Arthur is going to have a hard time not thinking about sucking that neck throughout the dinner.

Arthur takes a couple deep breaths to calm his heartbeat before Merlin notices him. He knows his panic doesn't show on his face—he's practised neutrality way too often in the mirror for that—but he has to work to make sure his voice doesn't come out like a fangirl meeting her favourite celebrity. That would just be embarrassing.

It takes all of Arthur's training not to break into a silly grin when Merlin's eyes scan the tables and finally fall on him. He manages to maintain a small smile as Merlin nears him, but his resolve shatters when Merlin unleashes the power of his own charming smile. 

Arthur panics internally a moment again when he doesn't know if he should rise and pull out Merlin's chair for him or not, but Merlin is quick and has already plopped—literally, plopped—into the seat across from him before he can move. In that one gesture, he has personified nearly everything that Arthur is not: carefree, casual, happy-go-lucky. He slumps down a bit, whereas Arthur sits ramrod straight. 

"Hey," Merlin greets him. "Have you been here long?"

Arthur looks at his watch just as it blinks from 18:09 to 18:10. Twelve minutes isn't that long, is it? "No."

Merlin's smile widens like he knows a secret and he leans forward just the slightest bit. The light from above makes his eyes twinkle a little and Arthur has to tell himself to breathe again. "Good."

Arthur's so caught up in staring at Merlin that he doesn't notice when a waitress approaches, and nearly jumps from the surprise. Merlin's lips twitch as he holds back a laugh and Arthur blushes, caught.

"Now that the rest of your party has arrived, may I get either of you something to drink?" The waitress asks, cheery.

"Pinot noir," Merlin says, in his London accent, without missing a beat. The waitress nods, writes it down, and looks expectantly at Arthur.

"Wa—"

"He'll also have pinot noir," Merlin interrupts.

The waitress chuckles and nods again. "Coming right up. I'll be back in a moment to take your order."

When she's gone, Arthur opens his mouth to speak, but again Merlin cuts him off, this time in his native dialect. "I was  _not_ about to let you order water."

"Wh-why the hell not?" Arthur demands, slightly indignant, slightly thrilled. It's a loss of control, it's not going according to plan, but it's also new and a little exciting.

"Be _cause_."

"Because what?"

"You shouldn't make someone drink alone. It's impolite."

Arthur frowns and his stomach sinks. When he sees Merlin is smirking, he realises Merlin is taking advantage of his lack of social skills.

"You idiot," Arthur mutters affectionately, nudging Merlin's foot beneath the table.

Merlin laughs. "Unless you have a reason for not wanting to drink tonight?"

Heat and colour rushes to Arthur's cheeks again, but he keeps his face stoic and regards the setting disinterestedly as he says, "I want to b-be able to remember."

There's no immediate reply from Merlin, so Arthur hesitantly shifts his gaze from the sunset out the window back to his date. Merlin's gone tense but soon recovers himself once he sees Arthur's eyes on him again. 

"I don't think...one drink will hinder your ability to remember," he manages, then hastens to pick up his unopened menu. Arthur follows suit and tries to focus on what the words are saying so he can select something he won't regret ordering.

*

One drink turns into two which turns into three, but lucky for Arthur the wine glass isn't too large and he's always had a strong tolerance for alcohol. Still, he's laughing louder than he usually does in public and isn't stuttering, though his words do slur a bit ocassionally. Merlin, however, is a bit of a lightweight, and erupts into fits of giggles at the slightest provocation. He talks with his hands and his eyes are wide with excitement. Thankfully neither of them are pissed enough to be a disturbance to others around them and they only get a few stares every so often.

Arthur doesn't know how anyone could manage to make eating steak look sexy—especially one that's well-done because Merlin likes his meat tough, thankyouverymuch—but Merlin does and Arthur enjoys watching Merlin's throat when he swallows. The dinner ends too soon—or not soon enough—and already it's nearly eight o'clock and Arthur is paying, and they're walking out shoulder to shoulder. 

They don't pay attention to where they're going. Arthur has automatically taken off in the direction of his flat so he assumes that's where they're headed. His brain doesn't quite make the connection until he's calling the lift that it's really happening, that Merlin is  _coming up to his flat with him._

He thinks Merlin must be able to hear his heart race in the quiet of the lift. He thinks the sound of his breathing must give away his excitement. As the lift doors open to his floor, he thinks he doesn't know what he'll do once he gets inside. He thinks it'll be awkward as hell and he'll never be able to speak to Merlin again because he'll be embarrassed...

But Merlin takes care of everything. Arthur is fumbling with his keys when Merlin's arms wrap around him from behind and he whispers in Arthur's ear, "Can't wait to fuck you. Hurry up so we can get out of these clothes, yeah?"

Arthur's breath hitches in his throat and he stifles a pathetic whimper. He can feel Merlin's erection prod against his backside, hot and insistent, and he jams the key in the lock with so much force for a moment he's frightened it'll break. He shoves the door open and yanks the key out before he forgets—he hates himself when he forgets the key in the lock—and before he knows it Merlin's mouth is on his, capturing him in a dominating kiss.

His keys drop to the floor with a loud clank and Merlin pushes him back against the door, effectively closing it and the space between them all at once. Merlin's hands are everywhere: on his arms, his chest, his back, his arse, his shoulders. Everywhere but his cock, which Merlin begins to rut into with his own clothed groin. Merlin's tongue demands access and Arthur opens, more than willingly giving it, and he wraps his arms around Merlin's entire frame, holding him flush against his body, tight and perfect.

It's a dance, but it's a battle. Arthur is happy to let Merlin win, but Merlin demands Arthur put up a fight. He sucks Arthur's bottom lip before pulling back a bit, making Arthur chase his mouth, and only once Arthur has shown interest does he push back, crashing into Arthur with full force. It's a silent "Keep up with me" and "I'm trying, oh God, I'm trying."

When Arthur loosens his grip on Merlin's waist and Merlin has the room to snake a hand between them to palm Arthur's crotch, Arthur gasps and says, "What happened to getting out of these clothes?"

"Ahaha," Merlin laughs breathily. "I haven't forgotten." He lowers his other hand to Arthur's hips and runs them up the inside of Arthur's shirt. When the time comes, Arthur raises his arms and—thank you Morgana—allows Merlin to pull the garment off. Merlin hums in appreciation at the sight revealed before him.

"Like what you see?" Arthur teases, rubbing his cock against Merlin's another time.

"Fuck, yes."

"There's more. But you have to give me something first." Arthur undoes one of the buttons on Merlin's shirt single-handedly.

Merlin laughs again and lowers his voice just a bit, then begins undoing his buttons. "Not so shy now I see. I knew a little liquid courage would help."

Arthur rolls his eyes—a sign that he's truly relaxed, as he only does that with Morgana—and takes off his trousers. When Merlin still hasn't finished taking off his shirt he attacks Merlin's jeans and yanks them down to the man's ankles, kneeling in the process.

"Oh!" Merlin exclaims. "Wow. Impatient, much?"

Arthur doesn't reply, just licks his lips and goes after the flushed cock in front of him. Strong, bony fingers curl in his hair as he takes it in to the root.

"Christ, Arthur!"

"Is this alright?" Arthur asks, popping off.

Merlin stares down, panting and incredulous. "If you really have to ask, you're more socially inept than I thought."

Arthur doesn't retort, just smiles and returns to Merlin's dick as if he hadn't just eaten a full course meal half an hour ago. Merlin is long but Arthur has always prided himself on being in control, and his gag reflex is no different. He takes all that Merlin has to give him, hollows his cheeks and sucks greedily, because it's been far too long daydreaming about this cock and not  _having having having_.

"A-Arthur," Merlin gasps as Arthur tongues the slit. "Arthur, if you—if you still want me to fuck you—ah!"

Arthur gives the head one last little suck and pops off again, cheeks flushed with colour. "Yeah. Bedroom."

He stands as Merlin steps out of the fabric pooled around his ankles and leads Merlin further into his flat. Merlin's hand in his is an anchor that keeps him on the edge of happy delirium and blissful incoherence.

Merlin practically falls on top of the bed, bouncing not once, but twice, and even worse, looking like some sort of magical creature while doing it. Arthur crawls over him, places sweet kisses up his chest and finally coming to rest at the pale neck that caught his attention the moment he saw Merlin walk in the restaurant. Merlin arches up, brings their bodies flush together again and gives Arthur better access to his neck, all the while running his hands up and down Arthur's muscled back. There's so much Arthur wants to do, so much they want to do together, that it's overwhelming.

Then Arthur remembers what they came in here for and pulls away. Merlin's eyes shoot daggers at him, conveying every bit the message of "How dare you," but soften as soon as he sees Arthur is reaching for lube. 

"Not going to make me do it myself, are you?" Arthur asks, voice hoarse from desire.

Merlin shakes his head vigourously, eyes so wide he looks a bit ridiculous. Arthur chuckles as he nudges Merlin to get up and they switch positions. He butterflies his legs open and his cock twitches as he remembers his first call to the sex line. He never would have dreamed it would become reality, but here he was.

He must have said this aloud because Merlin moans and says, "Going to give it to you hard and fast just like then too. Only this time I'll get to see your beautiful face when you come."

Merlin's fingers breach him, and there's another moment of  _Oh my God this is really happening_  like there was on the lift. It's one thing to snog or suck cock, and a completely other thing to be fucked. This final act—this penetration—brings the point home.  _Seventeen is fucking me._

Arthur is able to keep relatively quiet until Merlin brushes his prostate. " _Fucking_ hell!" he shouts before he can stop himself.

Merlin laughs like he's on top of the world and hits the spot again, but Arthur bites his lip and barely manages to hold back a moan this time. Merlin clicks his tongue. "I knew you could be loud. What did I say, huh Arthur? I want to hear you. Please, please, let me hear you." He smirks. "Or am I not worth it?"

"Bastard," Arthur snaps on an exhale.

"I won't make you." Merlin leans forward, pushing his fingers deeper as he brings his lips to Arthur's ear. "But it would bring me immense pleasure to hear you scream my name," he says lowly, knowing what his voice does to Arthur. His breath tickles the shell of Arthur's ear and to make it even worse he flicks his tongue and grazes with his teeth just light enough to drive Arthur mad. 

"M-Merlin!" Arthur gasps.

"Perfect." Merlin sucks Arthur's earlobe briefly then pulls back to return his full attention to stretching Arthur open. This time when he hits the spot deep inside, Arthur bunches his fists in the sheet and wails. 

"I—Merlin—Now—please." Merlin understands what Arthur is saying even if he isn't saying much and when Arthur jerks his head in the direction of his bedside table, he understands that as well. He pulls a condom out and slips it on; Arthur settles his legs on Merlin's shoulders and tells every muscle in his body to relax.

Despite that, his arse clenches when Merlin's cock pushes it way inside. He takes a deep breath and tries again, this time succeeding, and Merlin slides in wonderfully smooth. Once Merlin is fully seated—and pausing, to allow the burn of the stretch to fade as well as Merlin to not come right then and there—Arthur lets his legs fall to the side and wrap around Merlin's waist. Merlin braces himself up on the bed with his arms on both sides of Arthur's body beneath him, Arthur's arms wrapped reverently around Merlin's neck.

Merlin kisses Arthur again; no tongue, just a sweet, innocent peck on the lips to remind themselves that there's more to this than sex. They care about each other. Arthur makes Merlin feel like he doesn't have to rush everywhere. Merlin makes Arthur feel adventurous and courageous. 

And with that out of the way, Merlin begins to rock back and forth, slipping in and out of Arthur in slow, delicious thrusts. 

Arthur doesn't beg. He knows Merlin will keep good on his promise to fuck him hard and fast. He knows Merlin is just easing his way into it, preferring to savour the moment properly. He knows this, and yet he can't help but make pathetic little mewling noises—noises that he will deny having made later—though the important point is that he  _does not beg_.

He catalogues every single detail in the meantime. Merlin's lips: full and perfect. _God, fuck yes, right there, just like—_ Merlin's eyes: blue like a summer storm, framed by dark, heavy lashes. _Oh God, oh God, please, harder, hard—_ Merlin's ears: large but appropriate.  _Merlin, Merlin, Merlin, perfect Merlin, perfect, don't stop—_

"Fuck, Arthur," Merlin says suddenly. Well, one of him says that. Arthur's vision is reeling so much he sees three of them. "You really were holding out on me."

It's then that Arthur realises he was actually talking when he was detailing Merlin. Oops.

Arthur, of all things to do while having sex, blushes.

"Arthur." Merlin shifts his weight onto one arm and cradles Arthur's face, speeding up his tempo at the same time. "It's incredibly sexy."

Merlin jerks his hips faster, reaching near relentless speed, and Arthur tilts his head back as he lets out a moan. Merlin hits his prostate again and a litany of filth pours from his lips: "Merlin—I want—harder—I want—oh God please—yeah—Merlin, just— _God, just fuck me, Merlin, just fuck me!_ "

Arthur's legs are wrapped tightly around Merlin's torso and his hand clutch Merlin's shoulders just as hard. Merlin doesn't hold back, pounds into him as fast and hard as he can, even if his muscles are screaming at him to stop. When Arthur cries out a final time and comes, cock untouched, onto his stomach, his arse clenches around Merlin in a way that has Merlin spilling right after him, and honestly it's a wonder Merlin even lasted this long.

Merlin's arms give out from holding himself up and he nearly falls on top of Arthur, but has just enough coherency left to shift to his side. He slides out of Arthur slowly, pulls off the condom in a daze, ties it and tosses it...somewhere. Arthur feels like he's floating on a cloud and even the gaping emptiness left by Merlin's cock isn't enough to dampen his high. He's light-headed and happy and warm on the inside, satisfied like he's never been before.

He figures he'll just close his eyes for a minute while he catches his breath, but the next time he opens them there's light coming in from the window. He's beneath the duvet and Merlin is curled up half on top of him.

"Mmmm," he tries to speak, but his tongue is heavy and he's certainly feeling the effects of the wine now.

The vibration in his chest rouses Merlin though, and Merlin rubs his eyes with his knuckles. "Time is it?" Merlin asks, stretching. His limbs are long and graceful and he's utterly catlike in his waking moments. It makes Arthur want to reach out and pet his hair, so he does.

Merlin yawns and smiles as he returns to resting his head on Arthur's chest. "You passed out last night," he tells Arthur. "Made me do all the work and then fell right asleep. Didn't even wake up when I wiped you down and tucked you in."

"Mmmmm," Arthur tries again. "At least I remember it." Then his stomach flips as his own voice echoes in his head. His own ridiculous, porn-star, filthy voice. "Shit, I remember it!"

"Arthur?" Merlin sits up and places a palm on Arthur's chest at Arthur's expression of alarm.

"I—Oh my God, I—and you—I screamed for you to fuck me!"

Merlin, after a beat, falls into hysterical laughter that does nothing to ease Arthur's nerves. It takes Arthur trying to get out of bed for Merlin to come down enough and calm him.

"Arthur. Arthur,  _listen_ to me for once in your stupid life." Arthur raises an eyebrow and Merlin clarifies, "Not just to my voice, but to the words." He takes Arthur's face in his hands and looks him dead in the eye. "I. Love. Hearing. You. Scream. You idiot."

Arthur blinks. "Oh." And then. "Sorry I fell asleep on you."

Merlin sinks back into the pillows and chuckles. "Unbelievable."

" _Mer_ lin. I can't worry about what you're thinking of me when I have a hangover," Arthur says and groans.

"Then stop bloody worrying!" Merlin shouts and his accent is so thick Arthur doesn't understand it at first. But that also may be because of his pounding headache that Merlin's volume does nothing to soothe.

Merlin's expression softens when he realises what he's done. "Sorry," he says in a lower voice. "It's just...you're being all embarrassed or whatever for no good reason. Suffering unnecessarily. I'm trying to make you see that I  _like_ you, Arthur, and nothing you do will change that."

Arthur almost starts to apologise, but then stops. Merlin likes him. Even though he sticks to schedules so strict it's like he has OCD and he stutters when he's around strangers and he plans every little thing and moans ridiculously during sex, Merlin  _likes_ him. And he likes Merlin—loves him, even—and he's making a big deal out of nothing.

So instead of apologising Arthur lunges forward and kisses him. He doesn't let Merlin control the flow like before. He doesn't even let Merlin try to battle for dominance. He takes and takes and takes, shows Merlin he can be just as courageous even without the wine, and Merlin's eyes widen in surprise before he submits and gives Arthur everything.

"Wow," Merlin breathes after a minute.

"I want your mobile number," Arthur declares sternly. "And I want you to stop working for the sex line."

"I—Oh. Wow, Arthur, I didn't mean to make it sound like you had to become all alpha male or anything..." Merlin rubs the back of his neck and eyes Arthur with uncertainty.

Arthur shakes his head. "No, I know. This isn't an act. This is me."

"Oh." Merlin shrugs. "Alright then. I won't have any money for luxuries, but as long as I have an ace boyfriend to buy me things..."

"You do," Arthur finishes with a smile.

Merlin entwines his fingers with Arthur's and leans in to Arthur's ear. "Brilliant," he says low and smooth, making sure to roll his 'r' the way he knows Arthur likes it. He chuckles when it works; Arthur shudders and his cock twitches. 

Well. He can't have Merlin laughing at him, now can he? "You've been a naughty boy," Arthur murmurs as he rolls over to straddle him.


End file.
